It Seemed A Good Enough Resin At The Time
by Kyer
Summary: A short comedic tribute to Dubbers's story. Superman needs Flash's services to stop a menace. Naturally, Wally is willing to help his team mate out. Mostly Flash, some of the League and a certain Batclan member. EDIT SPOILER added. Rather read Dubber 1st
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **This little bit of fun is a result of Dubber's recent Justice League story featuring Batman: He Was Being Watched. I have received permission from same to cut Wally loose on it. YOU SHOULD READ THAT STORY FIRST AS THIS IS MORE A CONTINUATION OF IT AND I HAD NO DESIRE TO SPOIL ANOTHER WRITERS WORK! HOWEVER...SPOILER PROVIDED AT BOTTOM A/N.**

* * *

It Seemed A _Good_ Resin At The Time

.

.

The slim red head stuffed the last of what he'd dubbed the Mortal Death By Double Deluxe Ultra-Extra-Industrial-Strength Chocolate Fudge Brownies into his mouth until he looked like a chipmunk storing food for the winter. Not that the deletable sugar-laden goodies were going to last that long or even into the next few second ticks of the _Felix The Cat_ clock hanging over his kitchen wall. He just wanted to savor the extremeness for as long as willpower would hold before his stomach demanded he swallow or rising sugary-saliva levels threatened to burst the ivory dam of his teeth faster than his metabolism could fix them.

Now, normally Wally was not so foolish as to eat food from a package mysteriously dropped off at his Central City apartment door. Not even one that smelled heavily of chocolate fumes leaking from the shipping box seams. No, he'd taken precautions and diligently studied it for booby traps. Even if the sender was not aware that one Wallace Rudolph West was also known as The Scarlet Speedster...well, The Fastest Man Alive wasn't exactly _slow_. No, sir, Mrs. West's only son wasn't an idiot no matter what the glares of his team mates tended to imply:

_He'd read the accompanying address note on the package first before eating one of the treats: "To Master Wallace West. It's perfectly safe."  
_

Okay, he'd _also_ checked for signs of gorilla hairs, imminent combustion, mirrored cellophane wrap, incongruous fillings made of metal shards or other poisonous ingredients like super freeze agents. You never knew when either one of his Rogues was feeling playful or a Justice League prank victim had been thrown over the edge and down the cliff into insane revenge mode. Happily, although the offering was sinfully good, it wasn't _murderously_ sinfully good so he'd indulged in a bit of sugar overload by promptly downing the contents of the box into his capacious gob.

When his stomach would no longer be denied it's share of the unexpected bounty and demanded his tongue release its hostages, Wally swallowed the cache. A moment latter his fingers had been licked clean, hands washed, empty package tossed in the trash receptacle, and blue-jean encased rear deposited on his couch. He studied the high-classed envelope that had come with the box and broke the elaborate gold seal, wondering belatedly if it contained a death threat at the same time his stomach let out a contented burp.

Eh...too late now.

_

* * *

_

_Dear Master Wallace,_

_I understand that this method of obtaining your services is most irregular and that my request does not fall into your usual line of work. However, I find myself in need of your unique talents and hope you will indulge me as I have indulged your sweet tooth._

_By now I imagine you have finished the initial payment. Outside the Wayne Manor estate you will find a second parcel of similar size behind the lion statue to the left of the back door. It is my fondest wish that the contents of this second package disappear from the face of the Earth as the first undoubtedly already has. To be plain in the matter, I wish never to lay eyes on it again and it is imperative that I have no ties to its disappearance. I am sure you agree a man of your abilities can fulfill my wish better than a Fedex pick-up call?_

_A second payment of like manner will be yours tomorrow should you accept this assignment. I hope you understand the consequences should another find this payment before you accept it?  
_

_Cordially,_

_An Anonymous Client_

_P.S. This message will self destruct in three seconds.  
_

* * *

Wally hurriedly tossed the note away before the embedded layer of perspiration-activated acid compound could react with his skin as well as the paper. The missive went up in a bit of flame and smoke.

So...a well-mannered man of questionable morals with access to Wayne stationery and illegal compounds both chemical and culinary was looking to obtain his services? The sender sounded desperate. Desperate and talented enough to risk manslaughter charges should that second payment of fudge go uncollected and fall into the hands of an unwitting mortal whose metabolism was not designed to withstand such intense levels of sucrose.

No doubt about it...by not acting immediately some unfortunate's life could be in jeopardy.

This looked like a job for_...(his finger hit the tiny switch on his ring)...The Flash!_

A second later, another plain box was sitting on Wally's coffee table, bits of tissue paper strewn around it, the liberated contents being shaken by a spandexed hand. There was no noise indicating a hidden gemstone within.

_Damn._

Well, it appeared this mystery wasn't of the caliber of The Maltese Falcon, Wally thought with a bit of disappointment. Still, _lives_ were at stake and he had accepted the job.

Now, where _off the face of the Earth_ would be the best place to take it?

The Flash's grin matched that of the resin creature in his hand.

_Perfect!_

"Watchtower....beam me up, J'onn."

* * *

The diners paused as a now familiar scream echoed once again through the intercom:

.

_"Dear Goddess---it's him again---Mr. Mxyzptilk! Flash!"_

_-swoosh- "Don't worry, Supes, __I'll handle that nuisance for you! (sounds of tornado winds) There...I sent him packing back where he came from."_

_"Thanks, Flash. Can't understand it...that evil little gnome never used to come to torment me on a regular daily basis. I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for you coming so fast to deal with him."_

_"Think nothing of it, Supes. But, you know, I sure do appreciate your taking me out the last few nights. Inter-dimensional travel really burns up the calories and you know how Batz goes on about the League food bills."_

_"Sure, Flash, sure. How about at Trixie's All-You-Can-Eat Dining say around five-ish?"_

_"Well...you see..."_

_"I'll personally make sure they don't kick you out again."  
_

_"You're on, Big Blue. Don't forget to call me anytime you need me for pest control."_

.

J'onn frowned over his salad as the intercom went off. "I do not understand it. That is the seventh time this intruder has infiltrated The Watchtower and appeared before Superman. Yet each time I have not sensed a malicious presence." He sighed a bit morosely. "Perhaps I am losing my powers of telepathy?"

"Maybe you haven't because Flash has been booting him back out too fast?" Wonder Woman consoled. "Even Superman admits Mr. Mxyzptilk doesn't even get a chance to utter a word before Flash comes to carry him away again._"  
_

"That is a possibility," The Martian agreed as he eyes glowed. He smiled, looking in better spirits. "I _am_ able to sense Superman's fright and Flash's self congratulations well enough."

The Green Lantern snorted. "Even my _ring_ can detect Wally's latest burst of smugness. Its glow is approaching the power level of a nova's."

"At least our selection of foodstuff has improved since The Most Insufferable Man Alive hasn't needed to raid the pantry every hour for the past week what with Superman wining and dining him so much," Shayera chuckled as she ate her steak.

The diners all agreed on that point.

* * *

Bruce looked over the last two week's worth of food purchases. He'd have to ask Alfred to lay off buying so much sugar and chocolate....an army could not consume that much without going into toxic shock. Perhaps the bill was merely a typo? He'd have to ask.

* * *

a/n: Don't look at me that way. I do like Superman and--yeah--that was mean of me. I just happen to like Flash a lot more. :P

**EDIT: It's almost 8/7 and I guess some didn't read Drubber's story or bother to read it first. Much as it was not my intention to provide a spoiler for someone else's work....(spoiler for Drubber's story:)**

.

.

.

the item Alfred was so keen to get rid of and that Wally so delighted in was a garden gnome statuette Bruce purchased for Alfred. Since Superman's villain looks kind of like a garden gnome, I ..er...WALLY....went with it.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: revision: I actually wrote this bit of crack soon after the last post for this story. (Must have been on a fruit juice sugar high or something.) Anyway, not particularly proud of it (you'll see why if you continue) yet at the same time couldn't bring myself to erase the thing...never really meant to be posted...but what the hey...modem is acting up...want to get it off my Document folder...and my other story has John using poor Wally...this has the flip side!**

**Warning...I only revised through it really quick. About the only real change was changing the name Deadshot to Deadpool (on account that at the time I didn't know about Marvel's Deadpool and how incredibly funny that character is...in a morbid sort of way.) If you're not familiar with the Green Lantern Corp some of the jokes will fall flat. Heck, this is sugar-high crack so they'll likely do a face plant anyway. You are warned.**

**(btw...At the beginning what Alfred is referring to is a garden gnome statue Bruce gave him as a gift and that Alfred absolutely detested...but didn't want to tell Bruce that. He commissioned Wally to get rid of the thing. Wally then started using it to prank Superman and get free food.)**

A/N: Nothing spectacular here. Just watched some some DCAU episodes where John slapped Wally and felt like giving GL some grief.

Disclaimer. I don't own DC characters or locations.

* * *

"Alfred, I know you've not been feeding me any extra desserts, my Earl Grey tea tastes the same, nor have we been hosting any extra parties of late..."

Honestly, Alfred Pennysworth was beginning to regret having sent those fudge brownies to Flash in payment for getting rid of that ridiculously misshaped monstrosity with the odd little hat. Now the man was constantly badgering him for more of his family recipe 'Sweet Suicide' in exchange for the odd service job around the manor.

"...so, tell me, why the sudden need to corner the market on cane sugar and cacao?" Bruce's facial expression flowed from 'business like' to 'concerned' within an eye blink. "You've not become hypoglycemic, have you?"

Alfred raised one eyebrow at the very idea a British gentleman could come down with something that sounded so...common.

"Hardly. It is merely a matter of...pest control, Master Bruce."

"_Pest_ control?" The man who was The Great Detective blinked in befuddlement. What had bakery ingredients to do with vermin? Weren't there sprays and traps for such things?

"That is correct, sir. I got the recipe from the internet. You see, you add a percentage of sugar to a mixture of flour and something addictive to the pest...in this case premium-grade chocolate...it eats the bait and...goes away."

_Or at least it is supposed to._

Bruce's eyes glanced down to the number of 25lb powdered sugar and cacao butter bags purchased in the last fourteen days and his eyes widened ever so slightly as he did the math. "You mean that we have a pest infestation of that size?"

_What, did some of those giant cockroach things Clark fought in the future follow him home and come here?_

Alfred considered the overall stature of The Flash and his stomach_. _"_Potentially_, Master Bruce."

"Good Lord, Alfred, I had no idea!" Bruce set the bill aside and picked up another document in dismissal. "Obviously, letting them eat cake is not doing the job. Just call a professional exterminator to get rid of the problem once and for all."

Alfred almost pursed his lips. "As you wish, Master Bruce." As he walked away, Bruce Wayne could almost have sworn he heard the man mutter, " I do hope we have Deadpool's email listed on the Bat computer's address book..."

Bruce decided to pretend he hadn't heard anything and went back to studying the Watchtower's food bill. For once this one was not astronomical. In fact, the difference in cost was roughly the size of the increase in the _Wayne_ manor grocery account.

Hm...curious thing that.

* * *

Wally was having a blast. So far he had conned the gullible Clark into footing the bill for two week's worth of Flash Feeding Frenzies _(FFF being similar to -but surpassing that of- Shark Feeding Frenzies. If the Discovery and Animal Planet cable TV shows really wanted to host a shocker marathon guaranteed to turn viewers hair white, they'd have stationed camera crews outside of Trixie's restaurant in Central City instead of investing in aquatic equipment.)_

However, the last calorie-laden 'thank you' for ridding Clark of the presence of 'Mr. Mixy" had been spent at the local McDonagall's. Obviously, either Clark's well of gratitude was running dry or his credit card limit was.

Time to diversify before either Supe's bank account or his naivety went bust.

* * *

Of late the Green Lantern of sector 2814 had the eeriest feeling every time that he stepped into his Watchtower rooms that he was being...well..._watched_. However, he'd scanned the immediate vicinity with his ring several times during the past hour and had not uncovered anything amiss. Yet the feeling of not being alone persisted.

Odd.

Still, for the next week his Detroit apartment was being renovated. He was stuck using his domicile at the Watchtower until they were finished.

John sat down at his personal computer terminal and brought up his email. There was the usual various 'spam' advertisements that someone in the Watchtower kept clicking on and thus letting like messages for male...cosmetology treatments...get through the League mail filters. Batman had investigating the matter, but what with all the high levels of male angst going haywire whenever the likes of Zee, Power Girl, or Diana were on duty the only guy member The Dark Knight was sure was _not_ guilty was Plastic Man.

Uh oh...there in the middle of these questionable services was one message purportedly hailing from _The Chronically Constipated Blue Gnomes _otherwise known as The Guardians and his employers. Previously it would have been considered beneath the cobalt cretins to utilize anything as mundane as email, but with the budget cuts...

With a little trepidation (he was no Hal Jordon) Stewart clicked on it.

* * *

_To: The Guy We Went And Gave A Ring To. No, Not That Guy, The One With The Bad Haircut. Make That The Other One With The Odd Haircut.  
_

_From: The Blue Dudes over at Oa  
_

_Lantern Stewart, this is to inform you that one of our number will be arriving for a classified mission regarding the possible recruitment of the human band The Blue Man Group. They are being considered for sector 2814 being as we find them by far the most aesthetically pleasing of the human species. This mission will require the utmost concentration on his part as he assesses their strengths. During this time of meditation he will be uncommunicative even during what you pitifully malodorous un-blue primates might consider an emergency. On no account is he to be disturbed!_

_P.S. He has decided to spend this period on your bed._

_P.P.S. Leave plenty of fatty and sugary food in the fridge.  
_

* * *

As if on cue, loud music started playing from his bedroom. John got up and peeked inside. The room was dark, but he could just make out a blue skinned, white haired dwarf lying stiffly on his bed, presumably already in a trance. For some reason this particular Guardian was wearing a sleeping cap and an uncharacteristically Earth-style coat.

And listening to punk rock...a style of music that John positively _hated._

Well, the Guardians _were_ inscrutable.

John quietly closed the door so as not to distract his V.I.P guest and wondered where _he_ was going to sleep tonight and for the next week because there was no way he was going to get any shut eye with that racket going on.

* * *

Sighing, John turned off his cellular.

All the affordable motels around the world had been booked in advance? How was that even possible?

* * *

"Well, John...I _dunno_," Feet resting on the Monitor Womb panels, Wally made sure his drawling voice was laden with hesitancy as he talked with John over their communicators. "I was kind of expecting company for the next few nights. New TV reporter. A big Flash fan and a real babe. She was going to take me out for dinner in exchange for being with yours truly for an exclusive week long interview. ...Why me? _FFftt_..._obviously_, GL.." he took a big bite out of a brownie "b'wuz I'mf a _stud. _Plus, I'm willing to do it for peanuts. No, _literally_ peanuts. Pepperoni pizza smothered in peanut butter." Wally listened to John explain his situation in more detail. "That's all fine and dandy, dude, but I was kind of looking forward to those dinner interviews with a deep dish -_if you know what I mean_- so I don't see how anything you have to offer... Yeah, well, of course, if it wasn't for the_ free_ food, I might call it off. Pizza takeouts? I don't know, John. She _is_ a looker. Seriously? Cashew? Well, I guess we _are_ best buds. For a dozen deep-dish pizzas a night and a case of cashew butter...I suppose I can bend a little and let you share the Fabulous Flash Flat for a week."

Wally hung up with a grin and decided to go out for a run around the continent.

Between the pizzas and the nut butters, he'd have to start watch his waistline.

* * *

a/n: If I have to explain the subtle Plastic Man joke you are obviously too young to _have_ it explained so don't ask.

Btw, January 9 is the official birthday for Wallace Rudolph West. He prefers food baskets and really bad movie dvds dealing with Martians (the worse the better as thinking about the plots is a sure fire way to keep J'onn out of his head.)


End file.
